PLEASE NOTE: I do not give permission for any reproduction, re-imagination, or re-adaptation of this story in any way, shape, or form.
March 21st, 1943; Sunday (Paris, France)
In the days following Krista's adventure in sexual desire, she had not seen even a quick glimpse of Hans. She was thankful for that though, because the fewer distractions the better. She had work to do.
It has been nearly a week but her conflicted brain still felt foggy. She felt like a pile of chewed gum. Hans Landa was inescapable. She could still hear his voice, saturated with lust in her ear... She could still feel his lips dancing up the side of her neck, and his hands in her hair like a ghostly lullaby. The feeling of regret was nowhere to be found, although it most definitely should have been. The man could make her disappear with little to no effort.
Whenever her mind drifted beyond frenzied touching and hurried lip locks, she nearly felt ill. There had to be a logical explanation for his benevolence but she began to wonder if it was purely for his own gain on a later occasion. She could only assume that his intentions were to attempt to use her to get intel on the Allies. That was...If he thought her to be a spy, which she certainly was not. If that truly was his goal, he would be very disappointed at the finish line.
Krista yanked herself back into the present and peered into cracked mirror above the bathroom sink. Her face was makeup free and on the verge of a stress related breakout. She sighed as her eyes drifted down to the healing bruises on her neck; Hans's marks. He was everywhere around her, yet nowhere to be seen.
She tightened her long, silken robe around her body and tied the tie into a neat bow at her waist.
'Knock, knock, knock'...
"Ah shit," she mouthed to herself before frantically shoving all of her personal belongings back into her leather bag in the event she needed to make a run for it. "Uh... Un moment, s'il vous plaît," she managed as she packed the last of her things away and securely latched the suitcase.
"Je suis désolé," she said with an apologetic chuckle as she opened the door to see Hans Landa standing on the other side. "Standartenführer Landa." She offered him a smile then and leaned against the door frame with crossed arms. "I honestly didn't think I'd be seeing you again." Krista took a step to the side and allowed him into her simplistic room. "What brings you here?" She asked him, closing the door tightly once he was inside.
He flashed her a lazy smile. "You," he answered simply.
"Oh really? Couldn't stop thinking about me?" She teased as she sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly.
"Well, yes. That is true. But I actually came by to extend a dinner invitation to you." Hans placed his hand on one of her thighs after sitting beside her, his fingers curling around it.
'Oh not right now...' She pleaded to herself. "Oh, I don't know about that. I'm not really the type of girl that you take to dinner." She didn't like fancy. She liked hole in the wall taco shops with Dollar street tacos and Corona specials on Thursdays.
He removed his hand from her thigh and moved to rest it on his own. "I assure you this is nothing extravagant. Simply two adults sharing a meal." He smiled warmly. In actuality, it was an ideal opportunity to audit her without outside environmental distractions. He wanted to pick her brain apart once and for all. Hans felt the need to get to the bottom of what she was truly after.
Her story seemed phony; an American woman traveling alone in wartime Paris in search of her 'family' seemed dishonest. Especially when, coincidentally, the 'family' he suspected she was searching for was just one officer under his command. Something about this just didn't sit quite right to him.
She swallowed and nodded, knowing his eyes were unwavering on her, scrutinizing her every move. "I guess I can't argue with that."
He nearly had her right where he wanted her. "That's what I was hoping to hear. I will send someone to fetch you at eight o'clock tonight."
"Sounds good." She returned the same warm smile he had given her earlier and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. She suddenly felt very anxious and was in need of something to busy her hands. She'd kill for a smoke.
"Ausgezeichnet," he said before he stood up. He took her hand then and brought her up to her feet. His hand slowly drifted upward, where he closed his fingers gently but firmly around around her forearm. "Wear something flattering if you could, my dear," he drawled in her ear. "I'll see you tonight," he added before placing a barely there kiss to the shell of her ear.
He pulled away, releasing her arm finally. "I'm looking forward to it," she lied. The thought of being alone with him for an actual conversation made her sort of jittery.
He nodded to her once more and turned to leave, closing the door behind him.
Krista took one last look in the mirror and combed a hand through her hair. She took a deep, shaky breath and crossed the room back to the bed to slip into her heels. Her hands smoothed down the front of her black dress one final time before making her way out the door to wait for her Third Reich Uber.
She didn't have to wait long. Right on time; it was exactly eight o'clock. The driver didn't bother with shutting the car off when he got out, and when he turned to face her, she recognized him immediately. He was the major that she remembered from when she was basically naked in Landa's office. This was going to be awkward...
"Krista Jäger?" He asked.
She cleared her throat before she spoke. "Ja, Sturmbannführer," she answered in his mother tongue.
He gestured to the back seat of the long black 770, opening the door for her once she approached. "Danke," she thanked him politely as she slid into the backseat. It was stiff, the leather relatively slippery. Krista suspected that backseat was either rarely used, or had never been used at all.
The young Major said nothing in return when he closed her door, and promptly reclaimed his seat behind the wheel.
They had been driving for close to ten minutes before he spoke again. "Where are you from, Krista Jäger?" His German was clean and flawless.
"Kiel," Krista answered quickly, naming the first German city that came to mind.
The Major shifted his eyes to the rear view mirror to get a better look at the woman seated in the backseat before turning back to the road. He didn't buy it. "I see."
The remainder of the ride was silent sans the humming of the tires on the uneven trail like roads and the grumbling of the inline eight's exhaust out the cracked open window.
It felt as if they were traveling for about forty minutes total give or take, and she felt it necessary to commit to memory that they were heading southeast out of the city.
The street lamps that lined the populated city streets were long gone. The night's darkness choked the landscape, hiding their surroundings from immediate view. Damn... it was so dark out here.
The Major finally brought the car to a halt at the end of a short but windy dirt trail. The house that sat situated there was small and quaint with a small wooded area to the rear. She seemed to be on the outskirts of the city, but Krista wasn't as familiar with French geography as she was the language, so she couldn't be sure. It sure was cute though.
The man quickly left his seat again to open Krista's door and escort her to the house. He knocked twice on the dark wooden door, and awaited Landa's answer. "Just who I was waiting for," she translated to herself from German. "Thank you, Major Hellstrom. You may take your leave now."
Major Hellstrom. Noted.
He slid his heels together and offered Hans a salute before seeing himself back to the car. Krista watched as he turned around and headed back the way he came. Now they were alone. Her fingers trembled, forcing her to clasp them together to still them.
"It's been a while," he joked, allowing her into the house.
"It's only been two hours," she said with a laugh as she slowly wandered further inside.
Her eyes fell upon a painting hanging alone on the wall opposite the door. Clearly, the goal was for it to be the first thing you see when you open the door. It had been painted in a style that she recognized from her AP Art History classes. It was clearly from the Impressionist Period, and with that knowledge, she was able to deduce the artist must have been none other than the great Claude Monet. From their distance, it looked like one of the many paintings from his Water Lilies series. The series consisted of some two hundred or so painting containing similar subject matter, if her memory served her correctly. She couldn't be sure of which exact painting this was in the series, but nonetheless, it was stunning. "May I?" She asked, pointing in the direction of the painting.
Hans led her to the painting and slipped his hands into his pockets so he could comfortably stand back and admire the artwork. "It's incredible isn't it?"
She was speechless. It felt wrong to be so close to such a fine piece of art without the protection of glass. It made her feel like letting her fingertips grow familiar with the deliberate and choppy brushstrokes. But no. She had too much respect for the artwork to taint it with the natural oils on her fingertips.
"It is. Monet is my favorite Impressionist." Then her stomach suddenly sank. The Nazi regime had been notorious for looting invaluable pieces of art across Europe from anywhere they could get ahold of it. She again recalled a handful of lessons from the same Art History class where they had discussed the looting of works of art and how many of them had still not been accounted for. With that being said, she was to assume that the painting that hung before her could very well be one of those that had been confiscated from who knows where. She wondered if this specific painting was one of the ones that had never been found following the end of the war.
Her immediate attraction to the painting was unexpected. She was obviously an educated woman. It gave him the idea for his first test. He wanted to see how she'd react to the simple mention of The Führer to determine how to proceed with his sneaky inquiry of her. "It was a gift from The Führer in return for offering my services and here in France." He watched her closely, patiently waiting for some sort of wince or shudder. She did neither which told him that she was excellent at masking her views or she truly wasn't fazed. She sort of passed the test, but he couldn't trust her by default.
Her green eyes followed the movement that Claude Monet had laid down until she stopped at his signature. It was unbelievable. "I'm guessing that you're incredibly important," she mused, finally turning back to him. "How long have you been stationed in France?"
Her question seemed innocent enough to answer truthfully. "Two years and counting. A detective's work is never through." He left her side briefly to fill two wine glasses over at the wooden table in the kitchen and returned. "For the lady."
Krista gladly accepted the wine, and raised her glass. "Prost?"
His glass meet hers, the sound of resonating glass vibrating in her ear like a tuning fork. "Prost." Their eyes were trained on one another's while they sipped slowly and the intensity of his gaze on her brought a rosy shade of pink to her cheeks. Hans grinned, turning to take a half a step toward her. The mood abruptly shifted. "Do I make you nervous, Fraulein?" His truth seeking eyes met hers and held them.
She could sense him scrutinizing her, but she wouldn't give him any traction. "Not at all," she answered, keeping her eyes locked firmly to his.
She wasn't perspiring. He couldn't smell her fear or see her pulse pounding her neck. Being unbothered by his intimidating presence was of slight concern. Regardless of the hospitality and kindness he'd showed her, at the end of the day they were still enemies. Their eyes never left each others as he closed the remaining space between them. His free hand wrapped around her throat loosely, forcing her head to tilt back, but it wasn't sexual in nature this time. It was more menacing... threatening even. He gave her a warning squeeze. "I should. Do you have any idea what I could do to you?" His voice was low and rough, void of lust and desire.
She studied his eyes for any sort of a bluff before opening her mouth to speak. "Yes."
Hans squeezed her throat again this time not releasing. "If I don't intimidate you, I can only be left to assume that I arouse you." He could feel her swallow beneath his grip, and he smirked a devilish smirk. "Am I correct, Fraulein?"
Krista wanted to roll her eyes so badly even though he was right. "Yes," she admitted.
The hand around her throat danced down her chest until it met one of her breasts. The pad of his thumb brushed over her erect nipple. "I can see that," he said proudly. "Power is a potent aphrodisiac, don't you agree?" He asked her while allowing his thumb to now graze over her jaw slowly.
His eyes fell down to her lips almost dreamily. "I suppose." She did agree. The power he had over here made her feel giddy and yes, very much so aroused.
Krista let out a breathy laugh before raising her glass to her lips and taking a swig rather than a sip. This was about to be a looong night.
Their meal was quiet. The simple small talk was nothing exciting. They sat across from each other at the table, silently sipping their wine and exchanging glances. "So Krista. You mentioned you were in search of your family. Do you have reason to believe they are here in France?"
She brought her elbows to the tabletop and landed her fingers together beneath her chin. "I do. I followed the trail back home, and it led me here."
Curious. "Is your family French?" He questioned.
She shook her head. "German, actually." He recalled the photo she had dropped the night they met. Jonas was German... obviously. Her story checked out so far, but he still wasn't fully convinced. "I was adopted when I was born, so I didn't have any sort of contact with my birth family until a handful of years ago." Her statement seemed sincere enough.
Here was his chance to catch her in a lie. "Do you know any of the names of your family members?"
She shrugged, biting the inside of her lip. "Last name is Fischer, but I'm afraid I don't recall first names."
Part of Hans truly wanted to believe her, but another part kept telling him she was playing games with him. "Does the name Jonas ring any bells?" He asked eventually.
Her heart sank. How did he know? How could he possibly know that? She stiffened slightly. "Yes, actually. How did you know that?"
Hans mimicked her, placing his elbows firmly on the table, his sight never leaving her. "Educated guess." His eyes were trained on her, pinning her down effectively.
Krista let her hands fold neatly in her lap. She couldn't even think of a reply. "I'm impressed," was all she could seem to manage.
The night was winding down as the clock struck ten o'clock, and she couldn't fathom how it had only been two hours that she'd been with Hans. It was like an eternity had past, and the minutes were dragging by. Krista wanted to be alone so she could unpack their evening in peace.
Hans's mood had lightened and the tension has marginally dissipated, but he was still on edge and it was apparent. He turned slightly to her, their legs brushing. "I must say. I'm very good at what I do; I'm very good at reading people. But you..." he placed his index finger gently under her chin, forcing their eyes together. "You are an enigma." This woman truly puzzled him. When she spoke, her words seemed carefully chosen and calculated as if she were concealing something. When he looked into her eyes though, he saw something much different. He saw the eyes of a temptress that were capable of taunting and seducing with effortless fluidity.